“You hurt Ethan.”
“So what? He was never good for you. He doesn’t understand you like I do. All he ever does is make fun of your art and never shows up. But you know who’s always been there? Me. I was always there. I’ve always been here for you.”
“You were,” Lincoln said, trying not to anger Damien any more than necessary.
“You’re right, I’ve always been here for you.” Damien moved forward and got so close to Lincoln that he could smell the liquor wafting off his agent. Lincoln wanted to throw up.
“You’re mine, you’ve always been mine. It just took a while to see it. But now that Ethan’s out of the way, I can be here for you. And that bitch? Holland? No. You don’t need her. I don’t know why you think you do. You don’t. You only need me. I’ll help you get her out of the way, too.”
Fear clawed at Lincoln’s belly, and he shook his head. “Don’t hurt her.”
Fire slid into Damien’s eyes.
“You care about her, too? She’s standing in the way? She shouldn’t be. She’s nothing. She’s only new. You just fell for tits and ass, but that’s because you miss me. You miss me, and you pushed me away for so long. I’m not going to stand back any longer. Because I’m yours. And you’re mine.”
Rage slammed into Lincoln like a fist, and he shook his head. “I’ve never been yours, Damien.”
“Yes, you have. I remember that night.”
“That night was a long time ago, and we were both drunk. We haven’t done it again since.”
“You’re lying. You care. You always think about me. Just like I think about you. We’ve always been in this together. I helped to put you on the map. You’d be nothing if not for me. And now you’re trying to push me away? No.” Damien leapt at Lincoln, fists flying. Lincoln took the first blow while standing, and then bent down and elbowed Damien in the gut. Damien kept kicking, clawing, punching, doing everything that he could to try and reach Lincoln, but Lincoln was bigger and faster. And even though he had whiskey in his system, he clearly hadn’t had as much alcohol as the other man.
Lincoln shoved at Damien and punched him hard in the face. Damien spat out blood and grinned, as if he hadn’t even felt the blow. Lincoln kept hitting and kicking, but Damien wasn’t going to stop. Damien lashed out, hit and jabbed at Lincoln. This time, Lincoln was the one who spit out blood. It streamed down his face from a cut on his forehead, but he ignored it. He just needed to stop this.
Needed to stop Damien.
Because this was for Ethan, for Holland. Because no one was going to hurt those he loved. No more than he had already hurt them himself anyway.
And then Damien was on the floor, passed out. Lincoln loomed over him, his chest heaving as he sucked in breaths and tried to breathe, attempted to calm himself.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He quickly went to the drawer next to a bunch of his supplies and found some rope he had used for one of his mixed-media things and tied Damien up.
He wasn’t good at knots, but hopefully, it would be enough. And then he called the cops.
Because he had no one left to call. He didn’t know what to do. But he had to figure it out. He couldn’t even process that the man who had been his friend, who had been with him throughout all of his art, had become…this.
Because this Damien wasn’t the man Lincoln had been friends with for so long through. And then Lincoln looked over at his commission canvas, at the smear and mess he’d made with his fingers and let out a hushed laugh.
He couldn’t do anything. Nothing he did was right. Because everything he touched seemed to turn to ash. People got hurt. And what he thought he was, what he imagined he had to offer, wasn’t much.
Though maybe it was too much. Perhaps this had been a wakeup call, and Ethan and Holland were better off without Lincoln. He didn’t know. He didn’t have the answers.
He sat there on his stool, the one he’d used for so long to help him figure out what he needed to do with work, and he just waited.
Waited…with nothing.
Chapter 17
When the Montgomerys came to wish you well and tried to make you feel better, they tended to come in force. Ethan lay back on the corner of his sectional and wanted to scream. Not because he wasn’t grateful. Because, dear God, he was so grateful.
He didn’t have to lift a finger in this house, and his family was there for him. Everybody was there to make sure that he had everything he needed. Well, what he didn’t have was time to think. Time to be with the two people he loved the most. Because they were avoiding him.
Oh, they might think they were getting away with it, but he knew when someone was avoiding him. And that’s exactly why Lincoln had only been by twice in the last week since Ethan got home, claiming work and other things related to what had happened with Damien. And while Ethan wanted to believe him, he couldn’t quite get there.
But he hadn’t been able to sit down, alone, to actually talk with Lincoln. Tell him he didn’t blame him.
That this was Damien’s fault, no one else’s.
But, Jesus Christ, just the idea that Lincoln could have been hurt as well when Damien showed up at his studio made Ethan want to scream. Or hurt more anyway. It made him want to rip at the blankets that were currently covering his lap because nobody would let him stand up.
But he couldn’t do that. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to start bleeding again or something.
The bruises on his ribs were so bad that his doctor had mentioned that having them broken might have been better.
That wasn’t something he ever wanted to hear.
He was taped up, wrapped up, and every time he coughed or laughed, he groaned.
But he was allowed to walk around, at least according to his doctor—not that his mother actually let him do so.
He hadn’t been to work for a week. And, surprisingly, Maximilian had been fine with that.
Ethan’s boss had been so overcome with the idea that someone had been hurt in his parking lot, that he had installed more security equipment outside so they could watch what was going on. And nobody was allowed to walk alone to their cars now.
On the second day, Julia had come by to see Ethan to explain that, and she had said that Maximilian was really stressed out, even thinking about stationing guards at the office.
Ethan wasn’t sure how that would help, considering it had been a one-off thing, but whatever Maximilian needed to do to keep himself and his workers safe, Ethan would go along with it. That was if he were ever allowed to go back to work.
Oh, his doctor had said he could return the next week, but his mother might actually tie him down—gently—so he couldn’t leave.
Currently, the entire Montgomery family was in Ethan’s living room and kitchen, talking amongst themselves and ignoring him. Holland was sitting next to him, her legs crossed as she looked down at her tablet, working on inventory.
She wasn’t even looking at him or talking to him, but the fact that she was there, warmed him.
If only Lincoln would stop glaring at him from the corner and come over to sit with them both.
Everyone was there to make sure that Ethan was doing okay on his last day of confinement. At least, that’s what he kept calling it.
Aaron had brought up the word, probably thanks to one of the many historical romances he read, and now that’s what everybody went with.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else we can get you before we go?” his mother asked, plumping his pillows behind him.
Ethan looked over at Holland, who smiled at him, one of the first ones he’d seen on her in a long while. He swallowed hard.
Dear God, he missed that smile. And he missed Lincoln. Physically, they were both right here, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted them mentally there, too.
“I’m fine. Dinner was amazing. You know how much I love chicken and dumplings.”
“And did she tell you that she made the bread from scratch?” Arden asked, kissi
ng her future mother-in-law’s cheek.
Francine patted Arden’s shoulder and looked over at her son.
“I did, but that’s because I need to have my hands busy. I get really stressed out when one of my babies is hurt.”
“I’m fine.” His mom just looked at him. “Okay. I’m going to be fine. But I’m starting work again next week, and that means I should probably get used to walking around.”
“I know. I know.”
“Leave him be, Francine. Now, son, your freezer and fridge are full of food you can heat up. And I’m pretty sure Holland and Lincoln can help you with that. I’m going to drag your siblings and their significant others out and leave you three in peace. I’m pretty sure you guys haven’t had a moment to yourselves since the hospital.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Hey, you don’t have to drag us,” Bristol said, literally dragging Marcus into the room. Marcus just rolled his eyes, though he didn’t seem to mind being called a significant other.
Not that Ethan was going to touch on that subject with a ten-foot pole. He was far too busy worrying about his own issues to deal with his sister’s.
“Thank you for being here.”
Bristol teared up and then kissed his cheek.
“I love you, brother. Never do that again.”
“I’ll do my best not to have a crowbar-wielding maniac hit me upside the head.” He tried to sound funny, but he caught the way Lincoln’s jaw clenched.
Jesus Christ, he sucked at this.
He needed to talk to his best friend. Had to fix this. And he needed to see what the fuck was up with Holland.
“Just don’t do it again,” Bristol whispered before kissing him and letting Marcus pull her away.
Marcus lifted his chin, and Ethan just grinned.
“Thanks for being here.”
“Always. You know that.”
The two left, and Arden and Liam did the same after they hugged him tightly.
Well, as tight as they could without hurting him. Which wasn’t that tight at all.
His parents left next after kissing all three of them and patting Ethan’s cheeks. His dad had to literally drag his mother out of the room, but that was fine.
When they were gone, that left Aaron with the three of them. His brother cleared his throat before looking between them.
“Well, I didn’t actually mean to be the last person here. But if you need me, let me know. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
Ethan wasn’t sure who Aaron was talking to at that moment, and then Aaron left. Lincoln still stood in the corner. He hadn’t moved for the past ten minutes. Holland finally set her tablet down and shifted on the couch, so carefully, he knew that she was trying not to hurt him.
He reached out and gripped her knee, giving it a squeeze.
“Hey, you.” She smiled then, her eyes filling.
“Don’t cry.”
“Sorry. Hormones.”
“Maybe you should be the one sitting in the corner with a hot water bottle.”
“No, I’m fine. Though I did steal some of your chocolate earlier.”
“What’s mine, is yours. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. I guess I should head home soon. I have to do a couple of things at the shop anyway. And I know you probably want some time alone.” Ethan wanted to curse, wondering what the hell was wrong with everybody.
“No, I want you to be here. You and Lincoln. And why are you over there, man? Come here. Let’s talk.”
“Okay, I need to talk anyway.” Dread settled in Ethan’s belly, and Holland froze before turning to Lincoln.
“What’s wrong?”
Lincoln looked between the two of them, and Ethan reached out to grab Holland’s hand. She slid it away before he could make contact, and he felt as if he were lost. Standing on an abyss with a vast ocean all around him with no one there to keep him steady.
What the fuck was going on?
“This isn’t working.”
Lincoln said the words, but Ethan could barely hear them over the buzzing in his head.
“What?”
His best friend and lover shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have let it go this far. But this isn’t working. I’d say it’s not you, it’s me, but that’s just cliché, and I don’t even know what it means. But it’s not working. And I think it’d be best for everybody if I just left.”
Ethan tried to get up, winced at the pain in his side, and then Holland was there, holding his knee down.
“Don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Well, I might just have to hurt myself if somebody doesn’t tell me what the fuck is going on. What the hell, Lincoln?”
“I’m just…it’s not going to work out. Okay? I’m not good at this. I’ve got to go.”
Holland didn’t say a damn word, and Ethan wasn’t even sure he could speak as Lincoln walked away, leaving Ethan sitting there like an idiot.
“You can’t just go. We need to talk about this. I got hurt, but it’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t get to just walk away like this.”
“It’s not only about that. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It would be better if the two of you moved on without me. You’ll understand eventually.”
“No, I won’t. Help me figure it out right the fuck now.”
Lincoln stood frozen. Still, Holland didn’t say a word.
Lincoln was breaking up with both of them, and she didn’t say anything. Why was this happening? It was like he was getting hit in the head with a fucking crowbar all over again. “Talk to me.”
Lincoln just shook his head.
“I can’t.”
And then Lincoln pulled himself off the wall he leaned against and was gone. Gone. The door slamming behind him.
Ethan couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t just because his ribs were pressing into his lungs. No, it was because everything was wrong. Yes, he had gotten hurt, but it wasn’t that serious, and it wasn’t Lincoln’s fault. Why the hell was Lincoln leaving them both? That’s not how this worked.
He turned to Holland. He saw tears slowly sliding down her face, but she still didn’t say a word.
“What the hell?”
Holland knew she should probably say something. But how could she speak when she was shattering inside? She should have known this would happen. She should have known, and she should have walked away long before this.
But now she was going to have to do it anyway. Because Lincoln was gone. He had walked out, and he hadn’t even given a good excuse.
“Holland? Talk to me.”
“I…I need to go.”
Ethan’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward, pain in his expression. She knew that it was because he was moving far too much for those bruised ribs.
He had stitches over his eyebrow, and she wanted to kiss them better, but that wouldn’t help. He would have to deal with possible concussion issues for the rest of his life, and he was so fucking lucky that Damien hadn’t shattered his skull.
The bruises all over his body were now a different shade of green and yellow with some purple still mixed in, and she couldn’t even touch him. Because what happened if she touched him and she hurt him? She would never be able to forgive herself. But how was she supposed to forgive herself for what had just happened?
“I never meant to come between you two.”
“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ethan grabbed her shoulders, and she knew he wanted to shake her, but he didn’t. He didn’t hurt her, and she didn’t do anything. But she needed to go.
Lincoln was gone, and Ethan was hurting. If she hadn’t been there, maybe they would’ve worked this out. But it was all too much for Damien apparently, and now for Lincoln. After all, Damien hadn’t snapped until she’d been in the mix. And now Lincoln was gone, too.
If she weren’t part of this, it would have been easier for everyone.
“I should go. You need to work things out with Lincoln. He’
s your best friend. Even if your relationship can’t work the way it has been, I know you love each other. I should go. Because you can’t lose him.”
“I can’t lose you.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, and she wiped them away, refusing to cry over this. Because this was her fault. She’d told herself she should have left long before this. She shouldn’t have taken this chance in the first place.
“I was only supposed to be a distraction.” She scrambled off the couch, and Ethan reached for her again, but he couldn’t move to do so. Couldn’t get off the couch because he was hurt.
Because some monster hadn’t wanted him in Lincoln’s life.
“Work it out with him, please. The two of you are perfect for each other.”
“Not without you,” Ethan growled out.
“I’m not meant for this. I don’t want to be another obstacle in your way. Fix it. I know you can. But I need to go.”
And just like before with her last relationship, she ran. She ran out the door and to her car. She didn’t let the tears fall. She couldn’t. She’d kept her eyes dry except for those first few tears at the beginning. She drove to her house, hoping to hell she got there in time. Before the dam burst. Because she was going to break down, and she needed to do it in private. Because if she looked at Ethan, if she even thought about him, she would go back and make sure he was okay. Instead, she left him alone and in pain, and that was on her.
But she was scared. So scared of losing him, just like she had almost lost him when he got hurt. She ran. Because if she ran first, then it wouldn’t hurt as badly later—not that she actually believed that anymore. But she did know one thing: Lincoln and Ethan were made for each other. And she would just get in the way.
She left.
She had left while Ethan was hurting, but so had Lincoln. She had been trying to figure out exactly what to do once Ethan was healthy, and she hadn’t thought things through. Because she had gotten between them. She knew, just knew, that Lincoln and Ethan would have been able to figure things out if she hadn’t been there. And maybe if she hadn’t been so selfish, Lincoln wouldn’t have walked away at all.
Sated in Ink Page 20